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WHO IS COUNTING

Five Hundred Forty Eight Days
and then some
but who is counting

Where is that elusive curve?
Two weeks you told us

No end in sight
No light

No normal, not even a new normal

Days pass without notice into weeks
Weeks pass without notice into months

Five Hundred Forty Eight Days
and then some
but who is counting

The numbness sets in all around us
The masses lulled into an hypnotic state
Unable to disconnect from the fear that pours forth from their screens
Those purveyors of apocalyptic doom

Illusion of death everywhere
So say the dementors that have taken control

The people quake in terror
Who among them is the super spreader
Who will bring them to their doom
Accusing stares
Is the diseased one you???

Five Hundred Forty Eight days
and then some
but who is counting

The invisible yet tangible prison walls are enmeshed all around

Layer upon layer of LIES woven into an impenetrable fortress
Protecting the minds of the masses from now ever knowing TRUTH

The trap was laid
Fear the bait

Fearful, gullible, compliant humans by the millions fall into the abyss
driven only by fear of their own demise

That ending we call Death which none can escape

Five Hundred Forty Eight days
and then some
but who is counting

Darkness descends
The heavy blanket of fear threatening to suffocate us all
Yet the force of TRUTH finds cracks in the prison walls

Some already knew

For others a tingling in the back of the neck, a tugging at the sleeve
A whisper in the ear, a deep clenching in the pit of the stomach

An urge so overwhelming, compelling

Those fortunate ones in wonder listened as the soft Spirit voice willed
Turn back
This way is not for you

So we stood up
We spoke up
We shared all that we had learned
We though we could save humanity

We did not realize that belongs to God
Filled with sorrow, knowing now we can only save ourselves

The march towards the cliff continues

Five Hundred Forty Eight days
and then some
but who is counting

Brains now completely numb, slammed shut by fear
Logic gone

Hearts as black as the blood no longer able to course through veins
Forever corrupted by that mysterious, other worldly substance, graphene oxide

That sacred red river of life
Now tainted, changed so dramatically so drastically
Sure to bring on a swift Death

The drums are beating

Their Fate is chosen

There may still be a chance
There is always hope
Miracles do sometimes happen

Maybe some will look to the Heavens as their end draws ever closer
crying out to their Creator to look upon them with compassion
begging Satan's tapestry, begun inside their bodies, be undone

Human 2.0
A creature no longer human at all

Five Hundred Forty Eight days
and then some
but who is counting?

By Seth McGovern